However
by Gerald Tarrant
Summary: Sakuya has many problems with being the vocalist of ucifer, but his biggest obstacle is that he knows nothing about rock whatsoever...


_Kaikan Phrase and all characters are property of Shinjo Mayu, Shogakukan, and TV Tokyo. However copyright Glay, 1997, from the album Review.  
Please do not repost this fanfiction without permission.  
lordofmerentha@yahoo.com_

* * *

**However**

And that was that.  
We don't want you back, Santa said. Or had as good as said, with that snarl in his voice that Sakuya had gotten used to hearing whenever Santa was deadly serious about something. We don't need you.  
Yuki might say that Santa was temperamental, but Sakuya had seen enough in his life to know when someone like him meant business. And that had been no spur of the moment temper tantrum.  
Would it have helped if he had bowed down on his hands and knees, like a disgraced subject in front of the emperor, come crawling back to the band and saying, I'm sorry? I'm sorry for messing things up. Let me make it up to you.  
To bother him at work, of all places. Even Santa should know better than that. It wasn't his fault that he'd been short with the drummer. Not his fault at all.  
Santa should know better.  
He kicked the stand of the motorcycle into place, removing the helmet, breathing in the cool, slightly stale air of the apartment complex parking garage. The moon was bright tonight, he noted as he tucked the helmet under his arm and headed up towards his room. Work had been good for a week night. There'd been a wedding at the hotel and he'd managed to make over twice the amount of his usual tips, even with the manager telling him about the reception at the last minute. Women were suckers for piano music, all of them.  
_Is that all I am? A crowd-pleaser? An attraction?_  
He'd joined Lucifer because he'd been bored. Having a girlfriend had been nice enough to pass the time, but she had been married, with a life of her own. His days consisted of lying on his bed in the near-dark of his apartment, eating cold takeout and staring at the ceiling, wondering why he was here. Wondering when life would start getting interesting. The job at the hotel was monotonous, a way to get by.  
He enjoyed the piano, and he enjoyed singing, had always enjoyed singing, but it wasn't something that he had considered making a life career out of. Not until now.  
Yuki and the others had been right - he had felt something that night on the stage at the Cradle, even though it stung to admit it to them. To himself. That was the kind of singing he had always wanted, had always thought that he'd find someday, even when he wasn't sure what he was looking for. That was it. And then he had ruined it.  
_You really care about the band, don't you?  
No, Santa,_ he said mentally to the image of the spiky-haired drummer inside his head, hearing the words ring hollow in his own mind. _I'm not like you. I don't share your dream._  
He turned the handle of the door to his apartment, not bothering to switch on the light. Flung his helmet on the floor by the kitchen counter and flopped down on the bed, still in his clothes. The moonlight streamed in through the slats of the window blinds. The time on the clock read four minutes past 10 PM.  
Santa was probably at the Juke Box now, telling a widely elaborated version of his meeting with Sakuya tonight. About how Sakuya was hopeless, just like he'd been saying all along. About how Sakuya cared about was himself. About how it was pointless in wasting anymore time, and they should find a new vocalist.  
It didn't help that everything that had happened recently really was his fault, for once, and as much as he apologized and tried to make up for it, there was nothing he could do to set things right.  
He shouldn't care about that. It wasn't like the band was an only source of amusement, and even if they did find a new one, he still had his job at the hotel. There were women there who adored his playing, and he had a pretty enough face that he could find one without trouble. There was…  
What the hell, he thought, turning over and kicking off his shoes. Being kicked out of a band wasn't such a big deal. It wasn't like he enjoyed rock music. He hardly ever listened to the stuff, anyway…never had been much of a fan…  
Come to think of it, Santa's intuition was right about one thing. He had no idea what being in a rock band meant.  
Sakuya sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the moving patterns of moonlight and clouds on the ceiling, eyes flicking to the empty kitchen counter, to the helmet on the floor, to the lone guitar in its hard case leaning against the wall. He had bought the thing a month ago when he'd first started at the hotel and had just gotten his first paycheck. He didn't know what had possessed him. He'd never touched a guitar in his life, though he'd been playing piano ever since he could remember. He should have been saving up for a keyboard instead…the guitar had just been standing there all alone since he had gotten it.  
Slowly, he got out of bed, went to the bathroom, changed into a t-shirt and loose pants, came back into the room. The guitar was still there.  
_Of course, you idiot,_ the voice whispered in his mind. _Did you expect it to suddenly disappear? The world doesn't revolve around you being kicked out of Lucifer, you know._  
He took it out of the case, almost reverently. It was a Takamine acoustic, plain dark wood. The man at the shop had assured him that it was a good quality guitar, but who knew if he had been cheated? He was only a piano player, after all.  
The guitar gleamed in the dark moonlight, teasing him like a virgin lover.  
He grasped it by the neck, carried it over to the bed, cradled it like he'd seen guitar players do on TV, when he used to watch TV. Atsuro and Yuki held theirs differently, but they played electric. Was it harder, electric?  
Only one way to find out, he supposed, just like there was only one way of finding out if he truly belonged in a rock band.  
Putting one finger to the first string, he plucked it. A high, clear E rang softly through the room.  
Sakuya stared at the instrument for a moment before the thought formed in his mind that he had no idea where to begin.

  
The next night after work found him in the local music shop, hands in pockets, trying not to appear too conspicuous as he poked around the store. It was his second time in any sort of rock music shop, his first being when he had actually bought the guitar. He was a classical musician, used to the neatness and orderliness of piano shops, the feeling of elegance and tradition filling the air. The atmosphere here was entirely different, a sort of energy that permeated the shining guitars hung on the walls, the sparkling drum sets, the loud music blaring from the speakers.  
_How to Play Guitar,_ the book cover read. He flipped through it, placing it back on the rack and choosing another. _Guitar Chords for Beginners. 10 Easy Steps to Learning Guitar. Learn Guitar in A Day. How to Get Started on Guitar._  
Running a hand through his hair, Sakuya sighed, then noticed a book with a green cover hidden behind _101 Guitar Chords for the Beginning Learner._ He pulled it out, fingers running along the bright cover.  
_Guitar for Pianists._  
Perfect.  
Tucking the book under his arm, he meandered across the store, eyes catching every detail, the way the instruments were displayed, the sound system set up in the back. His eyes turned briefly towards the keyboards section, but he didn't have nearly enough money. The tipping had been sparse these past few weeks, and his next paycheck wasn't due until the month's end. He supposed he should feel grateful that the customers tipped at all, considering that it wasn't the Japanese custom to do so, but he'd like to have a little more cash on hand.  
Atsuro and Yuki had it easy, he thought, feeling a pang of…something as he imagined their faces in his mind. They had homes, people to cook for them…didn't have to work for a living.  
The concept of us as friends, he saw himself saying to Santa. I'm sick of it.  
He missed them.  
He hadn't wanted to join a band in the first place, and here he was, brooding over a bunch of guys who were probably better off without someone like him. Wanting, wondering if they'd take him back. Wondering how to make it up to them.  
He suddenly noticed that there was a CD section across the aisle from the stacks of piano books. He was willing to bet anything that it was full of rock albums.  
The names of the groups were unfamiliar to him, but they were definitely rock groups. He picked up one of the CDs, glancing at the name of the band. Luna Sea. Never heard of them. Flipped it around to the back and read the names of the titles, put it back on the shelf and reached for the next one.  
Sakuya left the store about six thousand yen lighter and one book and two CDs heavier in the bag which rustled in his hand as he swung one leg over his motorcycle and headed towards home. He didn't turn on the light as he entered the apartment, flinging the helmet into a corner and flipping on the CD player. The digital display flickered green and he removed the plastic cover on the first album. Looked at the title.  
Glay. _Review._  
The man at the store had raved over this album, about how good it was, a classic. Not as up to date as their other best album, _Drive,_ but good nonetheless. Sakuya had had no idea what he was talking about. Though that hadn't been nearly as embarrassing when the clerk had someone wheedled the information out of him that he was a vocalist for a rock band and had started trying to make deep conversation with him about so-and-so's song style. He'd managed to play it off, pay, and leave, but that still bothered him.  
Because he'd never been the type of person to let someone find out information about him that he wanted to keep private, and that meant he'd wanted the clerk to know what he was.  
Which meant that Santa was right about something else too.  
The CD came on, and the first thing that caught him were the catchy guitars. Maybe too catchy, he thought involuntarily, then berated himself. He was here to learn about rock, not to evaluate it.  
Still, as a vocalist, he still had the right, somewhat.  
The singer's voice wasn't bad. A scratchy quality, a little flat. He found himself slipping into the rhythm, infectious, pulsing. What was the title of the song? He picked up the CD case and removed the booklet. _Glorious._ He pursed his lips, thinking. Not a bad title for a song with…flair. It definitely had flair.  
Enough of that. _Glorious_ ended and he popped the CD out of the case, put the next one in. What was the band's name? Something in French. The clerk had called them Laruku. This band's vocalist definitely had talent. Sakuya listened closely, noting the ups and downs, the lapses into falsetto. He didn't have nearly as much range as this man. Something to work on.  
He listened to the album for a few minutes more, then placed it carefully back in the case, pulled out the Glay album again and put it back in the player. Skipped the first one, listening to the first few seconds of each one before moving on to the next. Most of them sounded similar, which he supposed wasn't surprising.  
Piano.  
He frowned, finger hovering over the skip button, listening to the piano introduction. What was this one?  
He fumbled for the booklet, finding it in the dark and holding it up to the moonlight to read the song title.  
_However._  
The melody caught him, but unlike the catchy style of Glorious, this song did not relax him but instead pulled him in. He closed his eyes and leaned back, ears attune to every detail of melody and harmony, for some reason unable to let go.  
He'd never felt this way about a song before. Not since…not since the live session at the Cradle.  
Was this what Yuki and Santa meant, when they talked about a dream? Was this something worth living and dying for?  
_"Kurayami o kakenukeru yuuki o kureta no wa anata deshita."  
You were the one who gave me the courage to run through the darkness._  
He didn't even noticed when the song ended, found himself drawing a deep, shaking breath and pressing the repeat button. The piano again. Sinking back against the bed, he wondered what this song was about. Who or what they'd written it for.  
It was too beautiful to be just an ordinary song.  
It ended again, and Sakuya stood, pausing for a second, listening to it begin again. Turning it down so he could barely hear it over the whine of the air conditioning unit, but so that it was still playing. Then stuffed the CDs back into the bag, walked over to the wall and dropped down to the floor, still feeling the pulsing of the drums and guitars in his blood. He carefully opened _Guitar for Pianists_ to its first white, crisp page, put his fingers to the strings of his Takamine.  
It was time to do some learning.

  
The phone rang and he shifted in his sleep. It was only the phone. The answering machine clicked on after the fourth ring.  
"Okouchi. Leave a message."  
"Umm…ano…"  
It was Atsuro.  
"Sakuya…you there? Hmmm…I guess not. Well, sorry to bother you." Click.  
He sighed. Closed his eyes and stared at the patches of light and dark on the insides of his eyelids.  
It was morning; he could see the change in quality of light even with his eyes closed, but he didn't feel like getting up. His head felt fuzzy, like the aftereffects of a bad hangover, but he hadn't been drinking. He'd only been drunk once and had never cared to repeat the experience.  
It took a minute before he realized the CD player was still on, the Glay CD still playing. He'd been up almost until dawn learning chords. It wasn't too hard, with his photographic memory, but the placement of the strings still eluded him and he had a hard time positioning his fingers.  
The song ended and he shifted, sighed, prepared to fall back asleep when the sound of a piano made him crack his eyes open and stare at the stereo as if it could give him an answer.  
_"Yawaraka na kaze ga fuku kono basho de…"_  
Still _However._ That's right…he had put it on repeat.  
He listened, falling back into a half-daze of sleep, as the song moved, flowing like a river through his mind, and he began to drift. Began to see their faces in his mind again, mouths moving, eyes bright.  
Atsuro, handing him Yuka's onigiri, because the path to a gentleman's heart was through food. The same box, outside his door that afternoon.  
Yuki, grabbing him by the collar of his coat. _Then don't talk like you understand! We're serious about our dream…!_  
Towa, smiling that mysterious smile, telling him that only the music mattered.  
Santa, cornering him outside, apologizing. _That means you really do care about Lucifer. Don't you?_  
The Master, aging hands closing the door of the Cradle for the last time. Yet with that look in his eyes. That it had all been worth it, even at the end.  
What was it about this music that pulsed through his blood like fire?  
The melody and the voice soared through his mind, breaking the hold of the ghosts of the past, transporting him to the present, and he opened his eyes. The sunlight hit him, glancing into his eyes like a reflection off bits of shattered glass, or perhaps the facets of a crystal, and the music swelled, building to a climax, seizing his heart and squeezing it painfully.  
_I say this to you, whom I hurt the most…I love you more than anyone._  
"I do," he said out loud to the empty apartment, to the guitar leaning on the wall across from his bed. "I want…I do want to come back."  
It was what he had been missing.  
He jumped out of bed, pulling open the blinds and letting the sun stream in, sliding open the door to the balcony. grabbing the guitar on the way to the kitchen counter. Putting on some coffee and rummaging in the cabinet for a few scratch sheets of paper. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for a pencil, sketching a treble staff in long, bold strokes.  
_If I can't say it, I'll sing it. I'll write you a song._  
He scrawled the first notes on the paper, strumming them on his guitar. In the background, the song wound down to a close once again, and he smiled as he jotted down more notes, with the sweet smell of the coffee brewing and the soft strains of the acoustic guitar.  
_I'm not sure what this means, but it has to mean something._  
The morning breeze blew in, wafting one of the sheets to the floor, but he kept writing.  
_I'll write you a song. And when it's finished…I want us to play it. As a band. As a team.  
All of us._

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**STORY NOTES**

This fic takes place during episode 9 "Live on the Street," after Santa's conversation with Sakuya at the hotel but before Yuki spots Sakuya's street live. I based this fanfic on the premise that Sakuya doesn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in rock. The other members had a hard enough time getting Sakuya to join /\ucifer in the first place, and his obvious inexperience and disregard for the rock music scene really makes me believe that first of all, he has no experience in rock music (except as a way to earn money), and second, he has no idea where to start.

When his "antics" get the band suspended from all the live houses, I believe that Sakuya really gets to thinking about why he's in /\ucifer in the first place. Somewhere between the fight and the start of his street lives, he must have come to some sort of conclusion to why he wants to stay in the band. This fic is an exploration of how he came about that conclusion.

It's pretty obvious that Sakuya cares a great deal about the band and just has a hard time showing it (more of that shoujo anime angst, I guess). This is a fic that works with both the emotion and the technical side of the rock music scene. Becoming a rock vocalist does take a bit of work, and playing guitar is a little different from piano. And Yuki's comment about Sakuya's horrible guitar playing after his first street live scene sparked my interest. Sakuya's good at everything he does, so he must not have been playing for very long. I also wanted to bring in some famous jrock names. You can't be a jrock vocalist without knowing some jrock names, right? ^_^

The Takamine acoustic guitar mentioned in the fic is the same as the one I have in RL (except mine is a lighter color). Just had to throw that in...I'm rather fond of my guitar. ^_~ And _However_ is my favorite Glay song. Ah...the trials of being a jrock freak.

  



End file.
